Sideways
by blue c 84
Summary: Meg tries a new way to get to Dean and Sam for Lucifer-- through their biggest fan, Becky
1. Chapter 1

A grin spread across her face as she pressed against a building's brick facade to watch her mark enter small neighborhood cafe. She stood wide eyed, fascinated watching the girl effortlessly chat up the baristas and some of the locals as she waited for her coffee. Summer Wind McKenzie was a regular at the cafe it seems. The cafe itself was several blocks away from the St. Raphael's hospital, where she worked, and though she passed by several coffee shops on the way, she always seems to come to this one. Then, like clockwork, she would leave, her tumbler refilled, cross the street and sit on a park bench simply to enjoy the summer sun for fifteen minutes. Then she would slowly make her way back to the hospital looking like the day had just begun.

She has observed her for a total of two days now and as far as she can tell, this is what the doctor does during her break. It was a peculiar habit almost as curious as her wardrobe. The other doctors that milled about always wore either sharp crisp dress shirts, the occasional vest, a coat and dress pants with coordinating formal shoes, a picture of professionalism, or scrubs and a comfortable pair of shoes. Summer Wind McKenzie wore neither. She seemed to always wear a pair of black and white Converse sneakers, jeans, and whatever shirt happened to be within reach and maybe a leather motorcycle jacket. Yesterday she wore a light washed, wide leg pair of jeans, with a simple long black shirt. Today she's wearing a dark wash straight leg and a long loose tie- dyed asymmetrical button down tank top with her leather jacket. Together with the leather bracelets and beads on her wrists, the silver rings and the long tear drop necklace, she looked like she was going to the mall instead of going to work.

"Come on, Becky," she said to herself, adjusting her mustard vest and smoothing the invisible wrinkles on her own pair of jeans as she stared at the entrance of St. Raphael's Hospital, "You can do this. Today is the day."

With a firm decisive nod, she took a confident step forward. Her plan was simple-- Enter the free clinic, where she found out the other day, the good doctor had been volunteering on her week off, fill out the necessary forms, ask specifically for Dr. McKenzie and wait for her turn. She wasn't worried about any diagnosis, after all, she wasn't sick. She just wanted to meet the doctor ever since she stumbled upon her in the drafts of her beloved Chuck Shurley aka Carver Edlund, writer of the Supernatural series.

Yes, one fateful day, Becky Rosen had used her key to surprise her boyfriend just to find him sprawled on the couch sleeping. A glass perched precariously on the table beside a half empty bottle of scotch had told her that the man was next to useless. He was undoubtedly wasted once more using alcohol to soothe the jackhammer pounding on his head the night before. She should have been sad. This was a total buzz kill. However, she knew her Chuck. A headache that had to be drowned in alcohol meant that her boyfriend had seen something-- which meant one thing to a girl like her.

There was a story lurking somewhere and she, the number one Supernatural fan, just had to find it.

And find it Becky did. Only, she didn't find just one. She found a whole bunch of stories, hidden away at the very bottom of his sock drawer. At first, she was offended. Chuck had always given her stories to read, even just drafts of stories with lame adjectives. For him to be hiding them from her like a betrayal. But then another thought popped in her head-- maybe it's happened. Wincest!

So she read the stories hungry to know how what happened to these people she had loved so very much. There was no Wincest, but she was hardly disappointed with the adventures that Chuck saw in his head. She now knew why he hid them. They were terrifying and heartbreaking at the same time. The Winchester brothers, Lucifer and Jo and Ellen Anna and Castiel...

But then, there was this girl named Summer Wind, a doctor in Washington state. And Becky read all about her. At first, she couldn't imagine that a parent could name a child Summer Wind. She was convinced Chuck had changed the doctor's name to protect her privacy even if the story was just scribbles, a draft before a draft. She searched the internet for the name anyway and lo and behold, she actually exists. There was her name on the university undergraduate graduation list. There was her name in passing the medical board exams. Summer Wind was a real person. Last name: McKenzie. She piqued her curiosity enough for Becky to immediately buy a plane ticket to Washington state, ride a bus to her town and wait, that first day, for a glimpse of the twenty five year old doctor and her white 65 VW Beetle.

-- -- -

And there she is, Becky Rosen. Meg couldn't help but smile at the simplicity of her plan as she eyed the nerdy girl waiting for her turn inside the clinic. She had been going around the world ashamed of her recent failures. During those times she spent alone wallowing in self defeat, she had trashed Every Get- the- Winchesters plot she had ever planned. They wouldn't work. Something was always in the way. And she really couldn't afford to fail her father, the bright and mighty Lucifer, again. Once was enough.

So one day, she stumbled waywardly inside a comic book shop and found a convention poster for a series called Supernatural. Two boys, a pentagram, and a drawing of a familiar looking car, the Impala stared at her in the face. _No way_, she had thought for a second. The demon didn't like the brothers but even they know that publishing their lives to the world, even if it is for a little money, was the most stupid thing to do. Especially when they were being hunted.

But page after page of a certain story felt true. A sketch of her old body stared right at her, including her past sins-- being tied down to a chair, exposing the demon plan, all the while, Dean Winchester sent her back to hell anyway. Out of spite.

So out of spite, she went after the publisher to find this Carver Edlund. She had asked for the information nicely, the publisher refused. Meg had no patience for games deciding to show her true nature to the spirited publisher, who apparently was also a fan of this monstrosity and needless to say, not only did she get the information she wanted, she also satisfied a certain craving. The publisher wasn't going to add any stories to that series anytime soon.

Then a problem presented itself. She had no doubt in her mind that Chuck knew the Winchesters. She had briefly stolen his phone in the grocery store to confirm after all. If the Winchesters didn't sell their story to this shaggy lump of a man Chuck Shurley, then it only meant one thing. He was a prophet. Prophets come with Archangels. Meg was good but even she knew she couldn't match an archangel blow for blow. So she needed something else, someone else, someone this Chuck cared for.

Enter Becky Rosen. Girlfriend and Supernatural fanatic. The best two in one mix Meg had ever seen. Why Becky Rosen was stalking this hippie looking Dr. McKenzie was beyond her. The doctor, as far as she could figure, was just a doctor who probably got stuck with the occult fad to have so much of everything in different religions on her wrists. She wasn't their target, though, Meg had to admit, she was glad the doctor lived in a small city in Washington.

Washington state was a place she always liked especially these days that all types of people were so high on these vampire stories. The Pacific Northwest had a kind of relaxed vibe that fostered believers of all shapes and sizes. People who believe that fruits had feelings. People who believe in the Nature spirit. People who believed in nothing at all. And her personal favorite, people who believe and worship her father.

Conservatives called them extremists. Meg called them instant slaves.

-- -- --

Becky Rosen sat on the bed inside one of the clinic's examination room trying to contain her excitement. It was finally her turn. Any second now, Doctor Summer Wind McKenzie was going to walk through that closed door and ask her how she's doing. At that thought, Becky's grin faltered slightly-- what was she going to say? She'd concentrated so much on how to meet this person that she forgot to think of something they can actually talk about.

But it was too late to back out now. The door opened. Her shirt was now tucked in revealing a belt with rather chunky silver buckle, her long black hair was tied back to a bun, her bangs swept to one side and she was now wearing a doctor's coat but there she was. Dr. McKenzie was entering the room looking briefly at her clip board before closing the door behind her.

A friendly smile spread across the doctor's face. "Well, Ms. Rosen, I'm Dr. McKenzie. I heard you were looking for me, " she said, pinning the pen underneath the clip, "You're the first patient I've seen all day with a smile on her face."

"That's good right?" Becky answered quickly, suddenly nervous, starting to regret she ever came. "I mean, it's a smile. That's good right?"

The doctor shrugged, giving her a curious smile. "It's refreshing," she offered. "But you wouldn't be seeing a doctor if you didn't think something was wrong. So tell me, Ms. Rosen, how are feeling?" she asked.

It was a simple question but it caught Becky by surprise. She saw the doctor's blue eyes observe her growing panic. She felt her smile start to seem forced. She felt her heartbeat even faster. "Terrible," Becky blurted out a bit too loudly, and with a bit more enthusiasm than she would have liked, "I mean," she tried controlling herself when Summer's gaze went from attentively waiting to attentively confused. "I feel terrible," Becky said a bit softer.

"Okay," the doctor replied tentatively, "Can you tell me why you feel terrible? Are you in any pain-"

"No. No pain."

"any discomfort,-"

"Well, not really discomfort more uncomfortable."

"Then you feel bad because..." the doctor trailed on.

"Because of the apocalypse," Becky spat out. She saw the doctor's eyes widen in surprise, pull out a chair, sit down and furrow her brow, all the while writing on her clip board. There was a pause, the doctor was looking at her, not knowing how to reply.

"The apocalypse?" she finally asked, twirling a pen between her fingers.

"As in the end of days," Becky reiterated, eyes wide with excitement. "Angels and demons fighting it out. Lucifer himself trying to rally his troops into the bloody war," she went on. She finally had someone to talk to who know's this is all real.

Or does she? Because all the doctor did was to stare at her for a few seconds. "Ms. Rosen, are you experiencing undue stress at work?"

_As a temp? _"No. No stress."

"Have you been having trouble sleeping?"

Becky shrugged. She's been working hard to fuel the Supernatural fansites which sometimes take all night. But that's something she was used to and would gladly do twenty four- seven. "No trouble sleeping."

"Then, are you taking or have you ever been on any medications?"

"Does anti-biotics count?"

"No, not really," the good doctor relied tapping the pen on her chin. "Ms. Rosen, why do you think the world is ending?"

"Like you don't know what I'm talking about. You've met the Winchesters," she said, intentionally dropping the name to illicit a reaction.

The doctor just wrote on her board again. "And the Winchesters are..." she trailed on.

"Sam and Dean Winchester," Becky answered, nervously. Had she gotten it wrong? Maybe she wasn't a hunter. Maybe Chuck had made it all up and was ashamed so he placed it in his sock drawer. And now she was here in Washington talking to a doctor who probably thinks she's crazy. "You know what," Becky started to gather her things hurriedly, "I think I'm just gonna go."

"Hold on, Ms. Rosen--" the doctor tried to stop her by blocking her way to the door, which in hindsight, was a good thing because at that moment, the door swung open missing the doctor by centimeters.

There stood a beefy man dressed in all black, his wild hair dyed jet black, his green eyes were rimmed with kohl which just further emphasized his pale skin. He was probably a whole foot taller than the 5'6 doctor and twice her size, staring right at Becky, forcing her to take several steps backwards. The superfan watched the doctor turn to face the intruder with a frown on her face. "Sir, I'm in the middle of an examination. You're going to have to wait your turn or I am going to end up calling security," she said firmly, shoving both hands inside her coat pocket and shrugging.

"Step away, doc, you ain't in this," he threatened, taking a step forward. Two other men took his place behind him.

Much to Becky's amazement, Summer McKenzie didn't move from her place. The doctor was blocking the way in and out of the room and she seemed to look like she knew it because she merely raised her gaze and placed a hand firmly on the man's chest. "Sir, attacking a person is bad. Attacking a person inside a hospital is worse. But attacking a person in broad daylight-- that's just stupid. No jury is ever going to set you free," she reasoned in an loud, authoritative tone, "I suggest you take my warning to heart and leave."

"Sorry doc. No can do," the man said before shoving her to a wall


	2. Chapter 2

Chuck Shurley woke up screaming, vainly reaching out to the dusty space of his living room. He saw it all. Becky and a doctor he had dreamt about before had been kidnapped from the hospital they were in. His poor Becky didn't stand a chance against those brutes even as she pounded them away with her fists. And the doctor could not do anything more than call the police with her mobile phone, which didn't sit well with the kidnapper. So a man gave her a hard backhanded slap that sent her careening toward clinic's reception table. They took her too, as punishment. And now they were both in some sort of building, handcuffed against some kind of pipe running across the wall.

He hoped so hard this wasn't a premonition of things to came as he searched for his mobile phone. Becky had left three days ago saying that she was just going out of town to visit a friend. Who was he to say no? How was he to know she wasn't going to visit an actual friend but try to make one-- by stalking, no less-- especially since the last time she called, she said that they were going to meet up. Thing seemed to be looking up for her. He, for one, was happy that she could live a life outside the Supernatural series.

Some prophet of the Lord he was. He definitely didn't see this one coming.

Ignoring his pounding head, he swept empty food containers from the coffee table and quickly unearthed his phone. Becky's phone was ringing but no one was answering which was odd because she always answered his call. "No no no no," he said, increasing in volume as panic settled in.

What he needed was proof that this was, in fact, a premonition. Chuck told himself that it was impossible as he staggered as quickly as he could to his bedroom, a room he hardly used due to the habit of passing out on his couch. Dean and Sam were normally the subjects of his prophetic dreams, not his girlfriend. She was the subject of something else that didn't require imbibing huge amounts of alcohol. But as he pulled his sock drawer and saw that the stories he had hidden slightly askew, he grew cold.

Becky was in trouble.

– – - -

For an hour the air hung heavy inside the speeding Impala. For an hour there was an uneasy stillness between the brothers as they headed west, back to Bobby's in the middle of the afternoon after what was suppose to be an easy job. For an hour, a dusty, dirty, muddy Dean Winchester drove the car he loved as fast as he possibly could, not just to get clean, but to forget the day had ever happened.

"What?" the older Winchester demanded when he caught his brother stealing a quirky worried glance his way for what seems like the hundredth time since they left that godforsaken town.

There was a slight hint of hesitation but Sam, as always, decided to be vocal. "Dean," he paused, not knowing if he should continue.

"Just spit it out already. Geez," Dean said gruffly.

"Are you sure you're okay?" his brother asked.

"I'm fine, Sam," he answered, gripping the steering wheel tighter in an effort to control his frustration. "I just want to get to Bobby's asap and get my baby cleaned up."

"And it has nothing to do with hobgoblin?"

_And the fact that he got his butt handed to him by a creature a sixth his size? Or that slight detail that he almost got the feet of his sasquatch of a brother to explode because he missed the shot that could've stopped the damn hobgoblin from spitting a curse on Sam?_ Dean frowned at the still fresh memory of his bullet blowing the head off an all too happy garden gnome statue but not the vindictive hobgoblin who lived in the garden. He very rarely missed a shot, and to miss one that mattered infuriated him. "It's dead. I'm happy. On to the next ugly," he replied, making the engine roar as he stepped on the gas pedal a bit more.

"Or Cincinnati?" Sam prodded, carefully.

Dean's frown deepened and his jaw clenched as he felt his ego take another punch from his well meaning brother. Cincinnati was their job before the hobgoblin where he took a beating from a Banshee. "You trying to tell me something Sammy?" he glared at his brother as Bobby's junk yard popped up in the distance.

"No, Dean," Sam started to try to end a misunderstanding before it even started, "I was just--"

"You think I'm slipping," he accused, mainly because he thought he was slipping. He had been sloppy in both jobs, maybe a bit before those two. If Sam had noticed, it was something his brother had kindly kept to himself. "Coz I'm not," he said firmly, "I'm not slipping."

He turned into the junkyard, mood darkening as he past the familiar dusty path flanked by rusting old cars. "I know you're not," Sam replied quickly, "Dude I'm just concerned that maybe I stitched up your arm wrong and..." he trailed on, his eyes drifting towards Dean's right arm.

"It's fine, Sammy. Don't worry about it," Dean sighed in resignation, turning off the engine of the Impala when they reached the front porch.

"If you say so." Another wayward glance at his arm told him Sam wasn't convinced. No doubt his brother would force Bobby to look into the well practiced immaculate stitches just for good measure. Sam was just that kind of person.

Dean took a second to take a deep breath and take in the fact that they were back in Bobby's home. Nevermind that the paint seemed to be peeling and there were shingles looking loose on the roof, or that it was filled with dusty old books and barely had any furniture, Bobby's house was as much a home as they would ever get. He counted themselves lucky in that respect. And Bobby's never failed to make him feel like a little kid again. "Bobby?" he called out as he opened the front door, "Honey, we're home."

"Ready for your seaweed wrap Dean?" A snicker came from the man of the house wheeling himself from his study.

Dean chuckled watching Sam bend down to give the older hunter a hug. "Good to see you too," he replied when it was his turn. The older man gave him several pats on the back. But Dean couldn't help but notice that the hunter had two wireless phones and three mobile phones on his lap.

"Expecting a call, Bobby?" Apparently, it didn't escape Sam's attention either.

The older hunter sighed uncomfortably and adjusted the trucker hat on his head. "It's probably nothing," he finally said, rolling himself into the kitchen to hand the boys some beer. As always, the Winchesters gave him a grateful look before settling in-- Dean, on the couch and Sam on the chair, like always. Bobby would rather they let the phone issue drop. But two curious expectant stares at him told him different.

"Five phones on your lap ain't nothing," Dean pointed out, "What's going on?"

Bobby Singer rubbed the back of his neck hesitantly, knowing these boys would nag him half to hell if he didn't tell them now. "It's my damn goddaughter," he reluctantly complained.

"Summer?" Sam exchanged a worried glance with his brother. They had a job in Washington a few weeks back and instead of staying at a motel, they stayed at her house instead-- even if it was an hour out of the way. Just like Bobby, she treated them like family though she refused to go on the hunt with them. She said the emergency room needed her more. They didn't mind. She had her own life after all.

"Do I have any other, college boy?" Bobby said, concern started to creep in his voice. "She said she was going to call."

"And?" Dean prompted.

"She didn't. That was two hours ago."

"Bobby, maybe she just forgot or she's busy in the E.R?" Sam suggested.

"Boy, the last time she couldn't call because she got stuck at work due to some big pile up, she had a nurse get her phone just to tell me she'll call me when it's over," he recounted, "Summer ain't you, boys. If she says she's going to call by a certain time, she's going to call."

"So you call," Dean said pointing at the many phones on his lap, "It's a two way street you know."

"You think I haven't tried? Idiot," the older hunter rolled his eyes, fuming, "By the way _Dean_, you get it dirty, you clean it," he said eying the couch.

Dean groaned at the thought of a chore. "But Bobby, my arm's all busted," he whined earning a glare from the older hunter. Suddenly, he felt his pocket vibrate, a familiar tune filled the air. The Winchester grinned, "Maybe she likes Sam more," he teased even before his brother could fish his phone from his pocket.

"Well?" Bobby demanded when he saw the younger Winchester's face crumple, stunned to see who was calling, "You gonna pick that up?"

"Hey Chuck what's going on-- " he started, confused and curious at the same time. "We're at Bobby's." He stood from his seat, stealing glances at the older hunter. "Whoah, hold on there. Becky what?!"

"Whipped," Dean shook his head as he took another long drink from his bottle.

"Hold on one second, let me put your on speaker," Sam said laying his phone in the middle of the small coffee table, concern etched on his face. "You guys better hear this," he mumbled, pressing a button on his phone.

"Chuck," Dean said eying the phone with contempt, "if this is another one of Becky's larping--"

"Hey, Dean, no, it's not about-- that," Chuck said in his usual clipped manner. "I- I kinda need help. Becky's... Oh you're not going to like this."

"Chuck, do you know how much minutes cost?"

There was a sort of sigh. "Right, minutes. Heya, Dean." Chuck said nervously. "I just had a premonition that Becky got kidnapped by a bunch of really big cultists under the instruction of Meg," he blurted.

"Meg as in demon Meg?" Dean's eyes grew wide with disbelief.

"Do you know where?" Sam asked.

"... Washington State," came a small hesitant sounding reply.

Bobby closed his eyes for a second feeling his blood boil as his brain connected two and two together. The trouble that he thought was just his imagination was turning into reality. "Son," he said as calmly as he possible could, "is your girlfriend with Summer?"

"I told you, you won't like it."

"Son of a--" Dean cursed.

"Chuck, how did Becky find out about Summer anyway?" Sam fell back on his seat exasperated.

"Well, She... You guys met and I kinda wrote her in..." he tried to explain. "But I hid them all. I swear, I hid all those stories," he quickly added.

"Not well enough, son," Bobby snapped. "You better keep your girl on a shorter leash." He took his cap off, ran a hand through his hair and placed the cap back on. "Christ, kid, couldn't you have just skipped her all together? She doesn't like being connected to this life no more."

"I know, I know," Chuck moaned. "It's just that..."

"Anything else on your mind Chuck?" Dean asked mockingly.

"Yeah, it kinda made the news..." he said slowly.

"What?"

"The news on TV," Chuck clarified. "On every station. For about an hour now."

Bobby watched Sam place his laptop on the table and start typing. Sure enough, the boy frowned, swiveled his laptop their way and played the footage. "He's right. It's on every major news site on the Internet."

There was no sound save for the reporter recounting the event while a security feed showing what exactly had happened in the clinic's lobby. "Violence was the last thing on these patient's minds when they went to St Raphael's free clinic, today," the voice over had said. "Five men, between the ages of 20 to 30, entered the clinic with one intention-- this young lady. Clinic records say her name is Becky Rosen. A local doctor tried to--" Sam intentionally placed the video on mute. They didn't need a running commentary.

A picture of Becky was flashed on screen while a video feed right beside it started playing. Two of the five men were armed and stayed in the lobby to make sure that no one sets off any alarm. Suddenly, they saw a familiar figure stumbling out of an examination room, off balanced and falling against the lobby table. Three men came out of the same room, one carrying a limp Becky like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder. Summer's mobile phone went flying across the room as a man tore it out of her hand, hitting her head against the table, before carrying her lifeless body out of the hospital.

"I'm going tear that guy's lungs out!" Dean swore pointing at the small screen which Sam quickly closed.

"Dean, calm down," Bobby said, oddly sedate for a man who just saw his goddaughter get kidnapped herself.

"Calm down?" Dean eyed the man like he's gone crazy, "You were freaking out because Summer missed a call, then you see something like that and you're telling me to calm down?!"

"Dean," it was Sam's turn to try and reason with his brother, "Summer saw the hit coming. She could've taken them. Easy. Isn't that right Bobby?"

Bobby nodded, darkly. " 'Fraid so, boy. There's got to be a reasonable explanation to why she let herself be taken for someone she barely even knew. She's nice, not suicidal," he agreed with a frustrated sigh. "Damn it! That kid always did do things sideways."

"Um.. guys? Hello?" Chuck tried weakly to get their attention back to his intertwined problem. "Summer might be cool and all but Becky-- she isn't trained. For anything."

Bobby eyed the two boys and gave them a small shrug. "He has a point," he said knowing the boys would do the job anyway.

Dean merely grunted, "Washroom break." Sam just took his phone and grabbed the their meager belongings to drag back to the Impala. The older hunter watched as the next generation willed themselves to go on as he quickly packed his own gear. He wasn't going to sit this one down, not when he just got his goddaughter back, not when she's in trouble. He just hoped they'll be there in time.


	3. Chapter 3

Summer Wind McKenzie woke up with a familiar feeling she didn't really like. She was hungry. Her head was pounding like her skull was two sizes too small for the throbbing mass inside. Her arms were cold and numb, probably due to the two metal cuffs that were added to her collection bracelets making her hands hang from overhead. Her ankles were tied together with rope. The only thought that comforted her was the fact that she was sitting down on the floor instead of hanging from some tree-- which, if she remembered correctly, was what happened the last time she was in this situation, only she was playing bait for some monster at the age of thirteen and that little excursion didn't play out too well.

She groaned, opening her eyes to see what and where exactly she was taken to. She wasn't surprise to see she was stuck in a small dusty empty room. She was however, quite stunned to see that the cold wall she's been leaning on was actually panels of mirrors. Above the mirrors were small thick semi circle glass windows letting the some unbroken bright streams of yellow sunshine in to hit the red brick wall across her. Together with the pipe she was handcuffed to that ran from end to end, she knew exactly what kind of place she was stuck in.

"Ballet studio," she mumbled, cringing. "Underground."

As far as her stomach could tell, it was morning. She pulled on the bar with her linked wrists, pushed herself against the wall behind with her feet, forced herself to twist so that she was facing the mirror, standing up. She was still linked to the bar and her feet were still tied but at least she could feel blood moving through her extremities again, her arms especially. She was starting to feel better already, which is more than she can say to the girl just waking up a few yards away in the same position she found herself in earlier.

"Ms. Rosen?" she quietly called out as the girl rose from her slumber.

Her patient suddenly opened her eyes wide taking in the predicament they were in with a slackjawed expression of fear. "Oh. My. God," the girl breathed in heavily, "Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh--" the volume of her voice rising as panic stepped in.

Summer felt a chill run down her spine, not because they were in some basement ballet studio handcuffed to rails by random people with unknown motives, but because an errant thought crossed her mind as she stared at the girl's growing panic. _She's normal. _"Ms. Rosen?" she tried again, but the girl didn't respond beyond panic. "Becky," she said, firmly.

And finally, the terrified face of Becky Rosen turned to face hers. "Dr. Summer McKenzie!" she exclaimed, a smile starting to form on her lips, her eyes started to well, half from disbelief and half something else.

Summer didn't like the half something else. She shifted uncomfortably as the Becky eyed her with delight. "Um..." she sighed, "What did you do to these people? Did you have an affair with a vampire who doesn't play nice with the other vampires?" she asked, half in jest.

"So you do know about vampires!" the girl replied.

"It was a Twilight reference. We're being held captive in a ballet studio...?" Summer explained carefully. There was no reaction. "My friends forced the movie on me. Good soundtrack." She saw the girl's expression fall, which admittedly, affected her more than it should.

"I agree. Although, it was terribly inaccurate," Another lady said coming in the door with a mischievous smile on her face. "But you know, doctor, whatever sells."

Summer frowned eying the confident woman approach them both while two minions stood outside the door. She looked normal enough, long mahogany curls, fair skin, red V neck shirt, denim jeans and boots. But she had a certain element that made Summer's mind start screaming the Latin prayer for an exorcism. Summer clenched her jaw in an attempt to control herself from getting them both into more trouble.

"What? No smart talk?" the woman said, amused at their silence, "My my my, I have to say, I'm a bit disappointed, Becky Rosen. I thought this would be more of a challenge. I thought you would've tried to escape by now. I thought this overgrown nerdy school girl thing was just an act. Hell, I thought you would at least be as entertaining as the Winchesters. But no, look at you," she said approaching Becky and lifting her defiant expression to meet hers, "You're the same old boring suburban middle class brand of human. Untrained, unprotected and weak," she let go of Becky and laughed as she continued to pace the room. "You live a life of constant danger by association and yet you can't defend yourself. And to think, your boy toy has archangels on his shoulders," she continued. "You're just precious!"

"Wow," Summer gave the gang's leader a wide eyed expression, "If you're just after her then can I go?" she said.

"Sorry, doc, count yourself in as collateral damage," she replied dryly.

"Awesome," Summer sighed.

"It's Meg right? Well, Meg, the Winchesters already sent you packing once. You sure you want to mess with them again?" Becky confidently said, glaring at the woman in red, "Don't worry Dr. McKenzie, I'm sure Chuck saw this all already. And if he did, he'd call the cavalry."

"Oh little girl, I'm counting on your boy to do precisely that," Meg grinned, holding the door open, "I'm plan to be ahead of the Winchesters after today."

The sound of the door slamming shut echoed through the room. Summer let out the breath she had been holding and gave her companion a look of disapproval. The time for pretense was over. And although she had no idea who this Becky Rosen was or why her boyfriend had angels looking after him, she knew one thing for certain-- a demon just linked her with the Winchesters. She was being used. "You have got to be kidding me," she mumbled to no one in particular, as she looked away.

"You're going to be fine, doctor. I swear. They're coming," Becky said managing to put on a brave face.

"Yes, and that's the problem. Playtime's over," Summer stated, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against the cool mirrored wall. She was well aware that the Becky was watching her intently, she could see their reflection against the mirror. "Becky, right now, honestly, I barely care about you. I barely care about your boyfriend. I don't care that he has angels watching over him. I don't care how you know about me, or how you know what you know," she gave her a sideways glance and saw her face fall again. "I got myself mixed up in this because I thought this was random. Someone wants a friend of the Winchesters dead, and there will be hell to pay with those boys if they find out that I let it happen under my nose. But no," she said.

"They're using me to get to Sam and Dean," Becky realized, wide eyed once again, "Just like how she used Sam and Dean to get to John in that Supernatural chapter, Shadow."

"I have no idea what Supernatural is but it sounds like you get the gist of it," Summer replied nodding.

"You need to get us out of here. Can you pick locks?"

Summer found herself staring at the girl for a moment, stunned at her sheer audacity. If there was anything hunters and anyone even close to one would know how to do, it would be to pick a lock. It was practically a basic necessity, the simplest get- out- of- jail free card. For this girl not to know how, to even suggest an escape without a plan, only confirmed one thing. "You really are normal, aren't you," she found herself saying.

The girl nodded her head.

"Awesome."

-- -- -

Dr. Washburne sat behind his desk and took a deep breath for the first time that morning. Being head of the hospital was stressful enough without reporters and police officers milling about asking his staff questions disrupting the usual flow of the hospital. How were they suppose to know people this Becky Rosen girl was trouble? She looked normal enough when she came in the clinic's door. She waited and filled out forms just like everyone else. When those men with guns came in, he thought they were after one of the more troubled people they were treating in the clinic. The gang member, for example, that he himself was stitching up in the next room, was more likely to be wanted dead or alive than the girl Dr. McKenzie was treating.

The police wanted to know if there was any possible connection to the doctor and the victim. He asked Summer if she knew the girl himself when he found out she was being requested, and she looked at him straight in the eye and answered that she had never heard of her. He believed her. Dr. McKenzie wasn't the type to lie.

The police and media wanted to know so many things. Why wasn't the police called before Dr. McKenzie dialled 911 from her phone? Because they were being held at gun point. How did they get in? Through the front door. Why aren't there metal detectors and guards in the hospital doors? Because it was a waste of resources. If one really wants to bring a gun in, a metal detector isn't enough of a deterrent. Their inquiry was as endless as it was frustrating.

And the note. Folded behind Becky Rosen's file on Dr. McKenzie's clipboard was a hastily written note for him from the young doctor. He found it when the men left and he picked up the discarded board. All that it said were ten numbers grouped with dots, Jonathan Larson and Highway to Hell. He must admit, he thought of Summer like she was his own daughter especially after the incident with the children mysteriously falling asleep. Plus, she was probably the best babysitter he knew for his own two tween daughters. But he couldn't imagine what this is suppose to be besides from the Rent playwright and the ACDC song she used as her ringtone.

A knock on his door brought him back from his musings about the note. "Yes, come in," he said shaking off his anxiety.

"Dr. Washburne," his secretary came half way in, looking just as harassed as he has been, "there are three men here insisting to see you. I said you were busy with the attack and all but they won't take no for an answer. A pair of brothers-- Sam and Dean-- they wouldn't leave a last name," she informed him while shooting glances at the waiting area.

Dr. Washburne raised from his seat automatically when he heard the brother's names. They were Summer's friends who helped with the same incident that lead him to believe monsters exist. They were the ones that eventually made Summer confess her previous life to him, why she does what she does, why she became a doctor, why she was so good with sutures-- a life she had kept secret so he had to keep the secret. "Let them in, Trisha," he nodded. If those boys were here, it meant they must have gotten wind of the missing doctor.

They looked exactly the same as he last saw them, only a little more rumpled and worn. Between them was a much older rough looking man on a wheelchair and cap, but the look in his eyes told the doctor that this man might be down, but he wasn't out for the count. Not by a long shot. "Wish we were meeting on better terms," he shook the older brother's hand firmly.

"Tell me about it, doc," he replied.

"Dr. Washburne," the younger one, Sam, shook his hand with a small smile. "Meet Bobby Singer," he motioned to the man on the wheelchair.

"Bobby Singer?" he mused eying the man curiously as he shook his hand, "I've heard that name before."

"He's Don Vito," Dean hinted.

"Don Vito?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded, grinning, "You know, Marlon Brando? The Godfather?" His younger brother shot him a look of reprimand.

"Don't mind chuckle-head over there," the man said, allowing himself to be wheeled inside the room.

"Oh," Dr. Washburne shook his head lightly realizing what the man was alluding to, "You're 'Uncle Bob'." Then he sighed, gesturing for the boys to sit as he took his own seat behind his desk. "I assume you heard from the news. I'm sorry but all I can tell you right now is that the police is doing all they can to find Dr. McKenzie and Ms. Becky Rosen. They say Ms. Rosen was the real target. Summer just got caught because she tipped off the authorities," he said, "Leave me your numbers, you'll be the first to know if anything comes up."

He saw them all shift uncomfortably in slightly in their seats which made him uncomfortable. There was something in the way they stole glances at each other that told the doctor that they knew more than they let on. It was just a matter of who would tell him.

Sam ran a hand through his hair, giving him an uncertain glance. "Yeah, about that, sir," he started, his brow furrowing with concern, "we don't think the police can handle this one."

"What do you mean?"

"Doc, they aren't against people here, if you get what I mean." Dean shrugged, looking away.

Dr. Washburne paused for a moment letting their words sink in. Summer had told him of all these creatures that could pass for human that she's encountered. However, those monsters didn't need guns which was brought in during the attack. "What do you mean _exactly_?"

There was another hint of hesitation between the three men. None of them wanted to be the one to tell the good doctor truth he so badly needed to hear. Finally, the godfather lifted his hand to scratch his forehead, reaching underneath his cap as he did. "Summer tell you about demons?" he asked wearily.

He nodded. "She said her father placed a small tattoo at the base of her skull to ward them off," he said lifting his right hand to show a small charm hanging from a thin red thread. "She told me never to take it off because it does the same effect. So how can demons be after her?"

"That protects against demonic _possession_, doc. That don't make them stay away. It just keeps you human,"Bobby Singer corrected with a sigh. "Besides, they're not after Summer. God knows why but those yahoos are after Becky."

"Becky Rosen. The patient," Dr. Washburne stated in disbelief. He leaned back on his chair awaiting the headache that he knew was long overdue. "She said she didn't know the patient-- never met her in her life," he said, confused.

"Becky is her own brand of crazy but she ain't anything like us," Dean finally spoke. "Long story, Doc. But Summer didn't lie," Dean took a deep breath, giving the doctor a humourless smile. "Look Doc, we didn't drive all night to explain to you the how messed up this is. We don't know why demons want Becky. Hell, we don't even know why Becky wanted to meet Summer in the first place or why Summer decided to get herself mixed up. What we do know is that the demon that ordered the kill is like the kobe of bitches."

"You have to excuse, Dean, sir," Sam apologized, briefly glaring at his brother, "But he is right. Do you have any idea, any at all, on how to find Summer? Maybe she left something? Said something? Maybe we can search her locker?"

The doctor fished the note from his drawer and handed it to the doctor's godfather. This must be it. "She left it on her clipboard addressed to me, but I have no idea what it is," he said, shrugging.

Bobby took one look at it and handed it to the youngest member of their rag tag team. "Looks like an IP address," he said, "that's your forte boy."

"Sir, may I?" Sam motioned to the laptop sitting on the doctor's desk. Dr. Washburne swiveled the laptop around for him to use.

A few clicks later, he saw the Dean grin as he looked over his brother's shoulder. "You got to love her toys."

"What is it?" Dr. Washburne asked. The mood of these men improved greatly as the young man clicked another button. Suddenly, the doctor himself felt hopeful that this would resolve itself soon. If they were captured by demons, then he can't rely on the police at all to find the missing doctor at all. These three men are all he's got.

"She has a GPS on her," Sam said, amazed. "She left you the username and password. Leads us right to her."


	4. Chapter 4

Becky was amazed. She read that doctor liked to hide things in plain sight but she wasn't expecting half the things she actually kept with her. Bobby pins, for example, were keeping her shoelaces in order. The doctor sat back down and brought her legs up over head so that her cuffed hands could get one to use to pick the lock. Seconds after, her hands were free. She reached inside her shirt to bring out a small knife to cut the rope and free her feet.

When she was let loose from her own bindings, Becky wanted to throw her now free arms around the girl. "Thank you thank you," she said as she attempted the act but gently pushed away by a not too happy Summer.

"You have a lot of explaining to do," Summer replied lodging the small knife against her belt. Then taking a small, thin pen from her pocket, she started quickly drawing on her patient's arm. Becky knew what it was before she even finished with the pentagram. It was the symbol tattooed on the Winchester's chest to prevent possessions. "Like Mt. Everest worth of explaining," she added when she finished colouring in the rays of the symbol.

"I know," She said, admiring her handywork on the back of her right palm. "But they won't come. They don't know where we are."

"Actually, they might..." That was when the doctor cringed as slid open the top of her belt buckle revealing a hidden compartment with two things, a small black box with a blinking light and a piece of chalk. "Hopefully, nobody figured out my little note about my GPS." She took the small black box and laid it on the floor eying it ruefully. "Man, this wasn't cheap," she sighed, before reluctantly bringing a foot down hard to destroy it.

"I'm so, so, sorry," Becky tried again.

"I know," She replied, quickly handing her a the rosary on her left wrist. Then she reached behind her, under her shirt and quickly took out two leather gloves to wear. "Let's just get through this alright? I don't particularly like that they're not barging in here trying to cuff us back, you know what I mean? So stay behind me and keep low," she instructed firmly while taking off the long chain teardrop necklace she wore.

Becky nodded, wondering what the necklace was for. In fact, she wanted to ask where exactly she had hidden the gloves and the knife but decided to keep quiet. The doctor wasn't in a very good mood, after all, she wasn't about to push her luck with all her questions.

Summer pressed herself against the wall and Becky followed suite watching her slowly try the doorknob. It gave way easily enough and she pulled on the door to take a quick peek of what they might be up against. She saw the doctor frown, but opened the door even more. She tilted her head to signal that they were both leaving the room.

Becky mimicked every movement the doctor did no matter how awkward she felt, pressing her back against the wall as they slipped out. The empty hallway made her want to cheer. There was no one in the short hall, just rows of closed doors on either side. Technically, they could just walk out. The agitated expression on her companion's face told her otherwise so she tried to stifle the grin on her face when she glanced back, pressing a finger on her lips to remind her they were moving as quietly as they possibly could.

Adrenaline shot through her veins with every step she took. When they reached the staircase without any issue, she couldn't help but give the doctor a big grin which the doctor replied with an increasingly concerned expression. Becky waited halfway down the length of stairs until she was signaled to come up until the ledge. It happened four times and finally, they arrived in a small empty room at what appears to her, ground level.

There was two sets of gray painted double doors, one, chained and locked from the inside is looked like the way out. It took less than a minute to pick the lock and to take the chains out as quietly as possible. Becky beamed happily as the doctor pushed against the door, freedom seemed to be at hand.

But the door wouldn't open.

She watched the doctor clench her jaw for a second. _Barred from the outside,_ she mouthed to as she marched to the second set of double doors as Becky stayed away to one side. Wherever Meg was, it was obvious she was keeping them in. She didn't need guards if she made sure they couldn't get out. The thought sent shivers down Becky's spine.

There was a slight nudge on the one of the doors and Becky held her breath when Summer gestured for her to stay where she was before kicking the door quick and hard. There was a loud muffled thud on the other end.

"Son of a--" she heard someone curse on the other side.

Summer swiftly yanked the door open, standing carefully aside. A man's leg appeared, kicking air instead of the door that was suppose to be there. Off balanced, a familiar brown leather jacket wearing man stumbled in which the doctor used to her advantage. She dropped the knife in her hand, took the stumbling man's arm and used his momentum to flip him over her shoulder and slamming flat on the ground. A swift move had her kicking the door shut again as she hand reached for the discarded knife and ending in a low crouch. But as quickly as she was ready to attack, Summer's form straightened, relaxed. "Dean?"

"What did you do that for?!"

"I thought you were one of those Meg demon's boy toys."

Becky didn't know she was holding her breath, her hands covering her lips as she watched the doctor extend a hand to the man she had just attacked. The door swung open, again, this time revealing the younger Winchester brother, rifle ready and raised until he saw Summer pulling his brother up.

"Sam!" Becky rushed to the former target of her affections and wrapped her arms around him. _It was all going to be okay_, she thought briefly. But then Meg's words nagged at the back of her mind crashing down her with sudden wave of dread. She released the uncomfortably frozen Winchester. "You have to get out of here," she said, turning him around and pushing him towards where he came from.

"Wha-?"

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

"Thriller remake. Are they going to start dancing?"

The four of them passed the swinging double doors and stopped in their tracks when they saw men waiting in the huge gymnasium. Becky counted at least twenty blocking their path to first fire exit, half way through the basketball court, all eyes were black and staring right at them. On the bleachers to the right stood the demon in charge.

"Well, well, well," Meg said, placing her hands on her hips. "Look what we have here."

It was too late.

Sam cringed when he saw the two dozen or so demons waiting for them inside the gymnasium. His heart started beating harder as he met the black gazes staring at them, challenging them,-- challenging him and his self control. He wanted to kill them all with the knife pressed against the small of his back. His lips suddenly felt cracked as Becky clung to his arm for dear life.

"You know I thought your name sounded familiar. So I asked around,"Meg paced the length of bleacher, eying the girl in the middle with amusement, "Summer Wind McKenzie, the child that bested Na'amah at the age of nine--"

"She was going to kill my the couple my parents left me with in Cambodia--"

"Who helped bring down a kraken at twelve--"

"The thing showed up wanting to eat our boat at a treasure hunt dive. We're not krill--"

"Who exorcised the demon who killed her parents at the age of fourteen--"

"You have to admit. He had it coming--"

"And that's just the huge ones," Meg shook her head lightly. "The little girl that could retired and became a doctor. Who would have thought it would be the Winchesters who would find and bring you back out ? Do you know the gravity of what you're getting into? And after you worked so hard to be well adjusted. It must suck." She chuckled lightly.

Sam saw the girl beside him smirked while adjusting the her black gloves. The amused smile on her face told him that Meg's taunting hasn't quite bothered her just yet. "I don't call refusing to get beaten up by demons coming out of retirement," she replied as easily as Meg had said her piece.

"Oh please, enlighten me. What do you call it?"

"Standard operating procedure," she quipped.

Meg's laughter echoed within the walls of the gymnasium. "Aw, adorable. I could just eat you up," she said wagging a finger. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted.

"You can try," Dean said cutting her off. Sam saw his brother step forward, blocking Meg's view to the younger girl. Sam followed his lead, albeit he had to retrieve his hand from Becky's tight grasp first. "Kidnapping-- that's pretty low. Even for you Meg."

"It gets results," Meg replied.

"Like what?"

"You're here," she grinned. "You see Dean-o, there's two ways this can end. One, Sam says yes to daddy dearest, and I set your friends here free. Two, Sam says no and I sic my friends here at you-"

"You can't hurt Sam! Lucifer will end you," Becky yelled from behind.

"What? No more hell hounds?" Dean taunted.

"Of course you'd decide to fight because you always decide to fight," Meg continued on, ignoring the their comment, "And somewhere along the way, demon blood might be spilled. And what happens to your precious Sammy then?"

There it was. Dean's sideways glance, needing to be reassured that he won't do something stupid and terrible, at least, definitely not here. As much as Sam nodded trying to convey that he was in control of his urges, his couldn't ignore how dry his throat felt. He's resisted temptation before, he knew he could do it again.

But that almost unnoticeable shift in his stance, one that only Dean could catch, spoke volumes.

"How's this for a fairytale ending," Dean said, whipping out The Colt, aiming it at the girl's head. He pulled the trigger. A possessed human dove in front of Meg, using his body as a shield. A glow of electricity flickered from the chest wound as the human's body spasmed, the demon and its human host both dead from one gunshot.

Meg let out a low chuckle, crossed her arms against her chest and shook her head. "Let's go," she said.

"Dean," he shot his brother a helpless expression when the demon's foot soldiers started to move. They were outnumbered. Sam knew the that odds of them getting out alive were slim. The demons wanted him for Satan. If he didn't give himself up, they were dead today. If he gave himself up, they would be dead tomorrow. He found himself wishing he was stronger as he reached for the demon killing knife. But that, he realized, was part of the problem and Meg knew how to pull those strings. Demon blood-- the thought made his insides burn, making him hate himself. He promised Dean he'd keep it in line. He promised never to let him down again. But put a recovering alcoholic inside a room filled with rum and... Where the hell is Bobby when you need him?

Dean handed him the shotgun and every salt filled shell he had on him. Most importantly, he gave him The Colt. "Give me the knife, Sam," he instructed as they took a step back everytime the horde took a step forward. "We hold our position behind the doors. They're going to bottleneck, for sure. Becky, you're going to stay out of everybody's way do you hear me? Summer, how are you with hand to hand?"

"Not as flexible as I used to be but otherwise peachy," she replied letting the small knife she owned twirl between her fingers.

"You and I, front and center," Dean said before turning to Sam. "If one of them gets past, shoot it. If anyone of them tries to hack us without us knowing, shoot it. And most importantly,"

"If I get a clear shot of Meg, I'll shoot her. Make every shot count. I know," Sam replied gratefully, knowing that Dean was trying to put as much distance between him and the demons as possible while still being useful.

"No dude," his brother gave him one of his more confident smirks, "the most important thing is not to shoot me. "


	5. Chapter 5

"Stop touching me! Perv," Dean growled when a demon wrapped his arms around neck from the back, trying to put a headlock. He quickly countered, thrusting his elbow backwards and flipping the demon to the ground before stabbing him with his knife. Another took its place, this time a fist, easily dodged, the knife finding itself once again embedded in a demon.

Several shots rang clearly in the air. Sam tried his best to keep the demons from overwhelming the two several feet infront of him. However, even he couldn't shoot them all at the same time. He didn't see the demon that came from the side, slamming his brother against the wall so suddenly that Dean had dropped the knife.

Becky watched panicked when demon quickly picked up the knife Dean had dropped and went for the doctor who had her back turned to him, occupied by two other demons. It was like time stopped and she could see everything at once-- the indecision in Sam's eyes as he aimed, not knowing who he should shoot first, the demon wielding knife gunning for Summer or the demon that was choking his brother against the wall with his bare hands. Sam closed his eyes when he shot the bullet. The demon holding his brother hostage slackened his grip before falling, dead.

Dean fell on one knee to catch his breath. "Summer," he managed to croak out, before another demon went at him.

The doctor turned to face him just in time for the demon to deliver an upward slash from her abdomen to her left shoulder. "No!" Becky heard her own voice echo when Summer fell backwards to the floor, off balanced, her now torn shirt lagging behind. The demon brought the knife down aiming for her chest.

But a small knife found it's way to his knee cap making him fall himself as he howled in pain. Becky watched Summer easily wrestle the demon killling knife from his hands and stab him on his chest instead. She pushed the dead body off her and pushed herself off the floor to a stand, shaking her head. She didn't seem to be bleeding, her blue eyes were as collected and focused at the job at hand as ever. She pushed the next fist away with one hand and slashed the demon's throat with the larger knife with one movement before throwing squarely on the chest of the demon about to charge Dean.

All the while Sam was firing round after perfectly aimed round. But Becky knew with the worried look on his face whenever he would reach into his pocket, that he was almost empty.

She clasped her hands and closed her eyes hoping that someone up there, maybe an angel, preferably Castiel, would hear her and come to their rescue. It was then she felt the beads press against her skin, and was surprised to find the rosary Summer had given her before they left the ballet room. Immediately her mind started running through the pages of Supernatural. There was something there about rosaries.

Didn't John Winchester drop a rosary inside a water tank turning the water holy and thus getting away from the demons chasing him in Salvation.

Didn't Sam and Dean themselves, use a rosary, drop it inside a toilet bowl, and exorcise Agent Hendrickson by giving him a holy swirly in Jus in Bello?

It wasn't much but it was enough for her to run down the stairs and down one level, looking for a red tab to pull. Finally, she found one at the foot of the staircase. The alarm rang, and the building's sprinkler system started to spray water everywhere. Once she was back in the same level, she was soaking wet.

But so was the floor and everybody else.

Water was everywhere.

"What did you do, Becky?" Sam growled eying her for a second.

"This," she said confidently, taking the rosary from her left hand and dropping it on the floor. "Exorcizo te creature acquae in nomine Deo, patris omnipotentis et in virtute Spiritu Sancti," she finished eying the demons expecting them to be screaming in pain.

"Dean, I'm out," Sam yelled over the sirens.

Instead, they continued on. Dean grabbed Summer by the waist, to face the demon she didn't see coming. Summer in turn, shoved her necklace's slowly dissolving salt pendant on the eye of the demon chasing Dean the quickly stabbed him in his abdomen. Black smoke came from his mouth as a result. But demons quickly took their place and the two were soon separated, dodging attacks and trying to get one in themselves.

"It didn't work," Becky's face fell, "But that was the prayer that John Winchester used to turn water into holy water in the chapter 21, Salvation."

Sam's eyes widened, realizing what she was trying to do. "That's not the whole prayer. That's just what Chuck wrote," he said, shoving the butt of his shotgun on a stray demon's head. "_Exorcizo te, creatura aquæ, in nomine Dei Patris omnipotentis, et in nomine Jesu Christi, Filii ejus Domini nostri, et in virtute Spiritus Sancti: ut fias aqua exorcizata ad effugandam omnem potestatem inimici, et ipsum inimicum eradicare et explantare valeas cum angelis suis apostaticis, per virtutem ejusdem Domini nostri Jesu Christ: qui venturus est judicare vivos et mortuos et sæculum per ignem_," he managed to recite before a demon broke through between Dean and Summer.

"_Deus, qui ad salutem humani generis maxima quæque sacramenta in aquarum substantia condidisti: adesto propitius invocationibus nostris, et elemento huic, multimodis purificationibus præparato, virtutem tuæ benedictionis infunde; ut creatura tua, mysteriis tuis serviens, ad abigendos dæmones morbosque pellendos divinæ gratiæ sumat effectum; ut quidquid in domibus vel in locis fidelium hæc unda resperserit careat omni immunditia, liberetur a noxa_," Summer continued until a demon took the wind out of her, pinning her against wall.

"_Non illic resideat spiritus pestilens, non aura corrumpens: discedant omnes insidiæ latentis inimici; et si quid est quod aut incolumitati habitantium invidet aut quieti, aspersione hujus aquæ effugiat: ut salubritas, per invocationem sancti tui nominis expetita, ab omnibus sit impugnationibus defensa,_" Dean grunted as he tore the demon away from the doctor.

_"Per Dominum_," Sam said shoving the shotgun's butt towards the middle of the charging demon.

"Amen," all three hunters managed to say at the same time. The demons started to scream and hiss as the water in the ground was charged into holy water. Their feet started to smoke, like they were being dipped in acid. Black smoke came from the humans, the souls of demons trying to escape the sting of holy water. Two charged to the hunters angrilly but was they were easily bested.

Save for the water coming down from the sprinklers, nothing and nobody moved. The hunters stood, injured but alert for anything else that may come their way, but nothing did. Becky grinned, taking the rosary from the ground and slipping it back to her wrist. "That was so cool," she said, "I just totally saved your asses, didn't I?"

Three pairs of eyes stared at her with various expressions of disbelief. She didn't care, she kept smiling anyway. They had won this round. She had to tell Chuck about this one.

This was her first hunt.

-- --- -- -

note: saved by the superfan! :D


	6. Chapter 6

Bobby Singer woke up with a pounding headache which he wished to ignore with more sleep. He tossed in his goddaughter's living room sofa bed, pulling the covers above his head trying to block out the noise. He might not have gone to rescue the two girls himself but he did what he could do, what he always done-- look after those idiot children-- which really begged the question,

When did he become a nurse maid?

He managed to find medical supplies in the bottom shelf in a tin box with a faded red cross symbol. Flanked by medical books and notebooks, it looked like living room decor but he knew it wasn't. Apparently, his goddaughter still followed her father's old rules on hiding things.

By the time the brothers came in, he had dinner going, camp fire style above the fireplace. The Winchesters came in damp, bruised and battered, retelling the story on how their superfan insists that she saved their asses and how the two girls were left behind, to weave some story to the authorities that was bound to respond to the fire alarm. Once they were settled, and patched up, his own goddaughter arrived accompanied by the local police, already bandaged up, wearing a police shirt far too large for her. She settled on the floor beside his wheelchair, resting her head against his leg, telling him how Chuck was in the PD when they arrived, while heartily eating the stew he had made exactly like she did over a decade ago in his home.

Only it wasn't exactly the same.

They got on drinking after everyone was sated. Somewhere along the stories and teasing and taunts, he had made the mistake of reprimanding Summer about how much she was drinking to which she replied that he was the one who snuck her first shot of whiskey and that there was always whiskey in his house for the short time she stayed there. Dean and Sam had a field day with that bit of information. And Bobby knew that when he died and passed over to the next life, one of the things he'd be doing was hiding from Galahad McKenzie, the man who never wanted his little girl to learn how to drink.

Bobby never thought he'd ever see Sam grinning like an idiot even if it was for no other reason than that he was tipsy, yet balanced enough to go upstairs and collapse in an empty guest bed. Several rounds later, Bobby himself had take his leave, rolling himself to the waiting sofa bed. He didn't know how long Dean and Summer drank or what they discussed, but he distinctly heard their voices still talking in the kitchen when he found himself half awake several hours after he remembered going to bed.

Which is why it surprised him that they were all up and about.

"Move bitch."

"Jerk."

"There's no way that guy can wear cowboy boots his whole shift."

"He's Dr. McSexy."

"His feet won't be sexy."

"Who cares about feet being sexy?"

"I do, Dean."

"Didn't know you had a foot fetish, Sammy."

"Okay, I know. So hypothetically, you see a this really hot girl--"

"Yeah? How hot, Sum."

"umm... Jennifer Anniston GQ cover?"

"Well, Sam, don't know about you but I'm more a Jolie circa Tomb Raider."

"So you see an Angelina Jolie, or whats her name from Transformers--"

"Megan the foxy Fox."

"Yeah, her. And you're about to get it on, clothes come off and then she takes off her shoes... and the room smells like blue cheese."

"Geez, Summer-- that's disgusting."

"Sorry, Sam. But the point stays. Hot guy, stinky feet. Complete turn off."

"Okay okay. Touche my dear lady. Game well played. Point very well taken. And by the way, this ain't bacon."

"Dean. It's bacon."

"No Sammy, I know bacon. This ain't it."

"Turkey bacon is still bacon."

"Woman, that's blasphemy."

"Dean, it's healthier."

"I don't care Sammy. It's fake."

"Will you shut up, you idiots!" Bobby sat up suddenly, giving up his warm covers. Three surprised faces stared back at him. Sam and Dean were on the couch adjacent to his holding their plates of food, while Summer, as usual, was on the floor, her food on the coffee table that separated his sofa bed and their couch. The looked like hell, bruises were fully formed and blue now and several areas injuries that he could see were now swollen. If they were hurting, they didn't show it.

There was an uptick in Dean Winchester's face that he didn't particularly like. In fact, there was something about the brother's themselves that looked different, like a some of the weight they've been carrying around had been somehow lifted. The older Winchester, for one, looked genuinely amused, for the first time in what seemed like ages. "Hey old man, you're blocking the television."

"Boy, I oughta--"

"Watch it over there Winchester. He's the Giles to your Buffy," his goddaughter interrupted hurrying off and returning as quickly as she could semi- limp back with a mug of coffee and a plate of eggs, bacon and pancakes.

Bobby shook his head, forking a part of pancake in his mouth. If there was anything he knew for certain, it was that this was all a front. They all knew it. As comfortable as this setting was, their cuts and bruises were there to remind them that when they were all nursed back to health, probably by Bobby himself, this would all end. No more home cooked meals of pancakes and turkey bacon. His doctor of a goddaughter would be alone in her own personal safehouse once more watching out for whatever may come her way when she's out, while the brothers go on warding off the damned apocalypse, with his and Castiel's help of course.

"At least I'm the hot blonde," Dean shot back, but giving the older man a quick fond silent look of apology.

One that merely earned an eye roll from Bobby, "Dean, one day, boy. One day," he sighed, resuming with his pancakes. One day, they'll have home cooked food without having danger hanging over their heads. One day, they can stop looking over their shoulder. One day they wouldn't need to carry salt around. One day, they'll be free to actually enjoy being in each other's company without knowing that it can all end with a demon or vengeful spirit that wanted them dead.

One day

Hopefully.

* * *

complete! yay~


End file.
